I have my Brixton briefcase, from across the pond
London's burning, but the beat the goes on
Feel my power, the electric life
Real rude boys, own the town tonight
And we don't need, no fighting
All these beautiful birds around
The liquor touch like lightning
As soon as the sun goes down
Turn it on (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Oh, turn it on (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Turn it on (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Oh, turn it on (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
I got a Brixton briefcase, ministry of sound
The walls between us, it'll tear them down
It's a Brixton briefcase, is that such a sin?
Blokes get pat on, they get a Chelsea grin
Oh, do your dance for the chorus
Smile and sing along
Shake your ass for me, mama
They're playing your favorite song
Turn it on (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Oh, turn it on (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
Hey (whoa, whoa, whoa)
Turn it on (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Oh, turn it on (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Worn off records, nothing soft
Turn it up louder, tell old Bill, "Fuck off"
To all my family, and all my friends
Have to ride that train, on their way to the ends
Oh, aren't you a nosy little neighbor?
Pretending to be posh
Burning the music won't save us
Only a wine-colored citric wash
Get it on (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Get up, get it on (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Get it on (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Oh, turn it on (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
I've got a Brixton briefcase
Feel my power
A Brixton briefcase
F-f-feel my power
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